The Shape of His Heart
by DeLyse
Summary: One-shot: Brynjolf sees money in a potential customer. So, then, why the change of heart?


_**A/N:** Just a quick one-shot about what I think goes through Brynjolf's head...as well as his heart. C'mon, he really is a good guy deep down inside, thief or not._

* * *

The Shape of His Heart

Brynjolf could spot a tourist from a mile away, and tourists meant easy septims. It was all about sizing up your mark. He needed only to glance at the couple to mark them as his next targets.

By the fancy Breton fashion they wore, he knew they carried gold and were willing to spend it. The pair were a strange match, though – the girl being at most in her mid twenties and the man double her age. He would have pegged her for a money-hungry swindler such as himself, if it were not for the look of pure awe on her round face. Most con-artists, especially females, held an air of confidence, walked with a lithe step, and spoke with a silver tongue. This girl seemed pure and innocent – aye, almost _too_ innocent.

They entered the market circle, and he waited for the man to lock eyes with him to flash his best gentleman's smile.

"Good day to you both," he said as they approached. The young woman looked his way, her face beaming with all the joys of being somewhere new. Brynjolf wanted to shake his head – this was going to be too easy.

"Good day," the man replied back. "We're actually looking for someone..."

Brynjolf grinned. "I have just the potion for that."

"You do?" the man asked, baffled.

"I do, lad. And it'll only cost you a mere fifty septims."

The man smiled and shook his head politely. "No thank you. I am sure we will be able to find him on our own."

Brynjolf knew the older man would be a bit more stingy with his gold. The girl, however, was another story.

"And how about the lass? Could I interest you in a vile of Falmerblood Elixir?"

The young woman looked up at his face, but avoided his eyes. She didn't seem to do it out of shyness. Something was off about her...

"Falmerblood?" She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and giggled. "That sounds both horrid and intriguing."

There was something familiar about the way she would not look him directly in the eyes. Reminded him of his younger cousin, actually. He used to hear voices, and would often stare off into the space in front of him. The only difference between him and this girl was when you spoke to him and he heard you, his focus would immediately snap back to you as though he were there the whole time and not lost somewhere in his head. This girl just seemed to hear him just fine. He even had her full attention. But her eyes...

_Oh_, he realized. _She's blind._

..._Jackpot_.

"Falmerblood Elixir isn't like most potions. Drawn from the very life essence of the snow elves, it is purer than other elixirs. Imagine the power those elves possessed... Imagine what it can do for you."

He could see it in her rich, brown eyes; a sort of light. Hope. And while he knew he had hooked her, deep down, he felt a twinge of shame at himself.

Brynjolf promptly ignored it.

The man, whom Brynjolf now saw to be her caretaker, tried to interject – Brynjolf could tell just from his expression and body language that he had doubts about what was being said – but the sly thief stepped out from his stall and stood tall in front of the Breton girl before the man could draw breath to speak.

"May I see your eyes?" Brynjolf asked her, zeroing in on his target.

The girl was hesitant, but he could tell it was not from distrust. She was excited and unsure all at the same time. "Yes," she finally said.

He took the soft curve of her chin between his finger and thumb and tilted her head up slightly. He studied her features for a moment; the pale, milky skin; the small, upturned nose; full, rosy lips. More importantly, he noted the complete relaxation of her stance, and the way she exuded nothing but trust toward him. She must have grown up in a very sheltered environment to be so utterly gullible and naive. She had such wide-eyed, childlike wonder about her. He almost felt bad that he was about to rob her blind...so to speak.

The man beside her was becoming fidgety. Brynjolf had to act fast and seal the deal before the opportunity escaped.

"Two drops in each eye, every night," he said, backing away. He took a bottle from behind his stall and held it now to the Breton man. "In time, I promise you, she will be able to see what colors look like."

The man's eyes grew wide. He stammered, "H-How much?" as he reached into his coin purse.

"For you," Brynjolf began, moving in for the kill...and then his eyes darted to the girl and all words died on his tongue, leaving behind a vile taste.

Tears were running down the girl's cheeks. Not normal tears, either. These were big, fat ones glittering with joy and hope and sunshine and all things miraculous and wonderful in life.

Brynjolf hung his head._ Damn it all..._

"...Free," he finally finished, and it was probably the first time he had ever said that word to a customer in his life.

"Free?" the man replied, just as astounded as Brynjolf was.

"You may have it," he said, pushing the vile in the man's face. "Take it."

"This...must be a trick," the man said, his eyes now locked on the elixir.

"Just take it," Brynjolf repeated. He didn't care what they thought anymore. He just wanted them to leave.


End file.
